Satisfaction


Title: Satisfaction
Pairing: Person A/Person B, no names, whomever
Rating: Pg-13?
Dated: May 16, 2004
Summary: as kate said, "person A starts off feeling powerless and unable to help himself, but slowly comes to realize that he can just let go and then he does, and Person B looks like an idiot." sure. If you cannot read the page, try here.

Satisfaction

The tiny hairs that cover your skin, you feel his lips against your shoulder. Feather light but chapped from the heat and air and you close your eyes on instinct. Trying to lean into him, his hands snaking up to your sides, rough on your jeans until you feel them warm on your hips.

Its like a rope, a cord pulled from the corners of your body to right in the middle of your chest, your lungs catch and fill and you want to scream. To cry out and make a move to leave and not have to feel this again.

But there’s the part of you that wants to stay, the part that is winning.

You’re moving to pull his lips to yours but you shouldn’t be. You should be angry and you should be resilient to this power he has over you because god knows you’ve done this before. You’ve felt this way before and it tears you up inside for days you can’t get him out of your mind until you’re right back where it all began and you’re at his will.

Again.

But you tell yourself every time that this will be different. That it’s the last time and the next you’ll have more control.

But everything tells you different.

Like the way his hand is on your stomach and you’re reaching back for a grip on his hair. The air is scorching hot and something like electricity is running through your body. Like boiling water, once it gets going it only takes a little bit of heat to get it back up to rolling.

You pull back and push him away. He looks at you and you want to scream at the top of your lungs and tell him that this will never happen again. That this is the last time and you wont be coming back. Because really, he’s not the one standing out in the rain on your doorstep at midnight. He’s not the one who feels lonely, who longs for affection. He’s got her now and you’re the one who has nothing.

But he encourages it, he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t object. He doesn’t feel the need to scream and rip all his skin off when everything is all said and done. He doesn’t need you anymore. And you don’t need him.

You push him away and he looks down at you. You want to gouge his eyes out for the way he’s looking at you right now but it feels good. It feels good that he wants you because no one else does.

And you’re right back to where you were, again. Against his skin and he’s warm and its not to anyone’s surprise when he doesn’t push you away, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he pulls his fingers through your wet hair.

The two of you move, your jeans slipping on the percale sheets and it makes it more real. You’re doing this again. You know better. So stop it and leave. Put your shirt back on and open your eyes. You know better.

His fingers slide your jeans down your thighs and they bunch up at your knees, the wet material restricting them from moving any lower but he’s right on that, switching places with you and kneeling on the floor.

He pulls your shoes off and tugs on the hem of your jeans, pulling the rough wet fabric away from your skin and replacing it with his warm hands. His fingertips are icy whereas his palms are warm and they slide up to your hips again as his lips press firmly against your cheek.

And your eyes are closed tightly and you see spots, trying not to memorize the way his lips feel. The curve of his lower lip and the deep cupid’s bow on his upper where your teeth are currently testing. Tricks, he knows all of them and soon you know you won’t be able to stop. Its halfway up the slope and you’re about to slide.

Your fingers tug at his hair as his dance along your skin. He knows. He knows you can’t stop. He knows it and he uses it to his advantage and now you’re wondering if it’s all been a big scheme. A fucked up plot he created long ago, back when you first met. Like he knew that he would be able to turn your world upside down and backwards.

And you’re back to angry at him. You want to smack him hard across the face and call him names. Instead you’re raking your nails up his back, dark red marks on his shoulders come morning but you wont be here to see them. You say his name and want to cry. How did he do that?

But you know. You know all his little ways. And he’s knows yours. Remember that slope?You’re quickly sliding and it’s only a few more bumps until you’re there, his spine curved and his muscles rigid. You want to scream for another reason now but you cant let yourself do it, can’t give him the satisfaction so you bite your tongue and strain your thighs.

And everything is burning. White hot light and smooth skin and now you’re back at the bottom as his chest heaves against yours. This is what you wanted to begin with. So why do you loathe it with every fiber in your being?

His lips find yours again and you kiss back. This will be the last time. You’re not going to do it again, you won’t allow yourself.

“I left her, she’s gone…” he’s whispering but you feel like he’s screaming it in an empty corridor. It echoes in your ears and through your mind and before he can comprehend it you’re up and sliding your damp jeans back on.

Pushing your hair out of your face and avoiding his eyes because you don’t want to see. You don’t want to see what you’ve done. This was the last time. This was the last time you gave in. This was the last time.

And as you’re walking out the door you glance back, a sheet wrapped around his waist and a dumb look plastered on his face.

You’re going to make him work very hard to get you back. You want him to be the one on your doorstep. You want him to feel used and like he has something to prove. Because you don’t need him. You’re better than that and he does not have any power over you anymore.

But you know you still have some over him. And using someone is more than enough fun to keep you entertained. Payback is a bitch and you’re going all out to get back at everyone who has ever dicked you over. Poor fool to ever mess with you. Poor fool.

=-=

the end.

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